


Basorexia

by tomioneer



Category: Batman (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, High School, M/M, Oneshot, meet cute, small scenes, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomioneer/pseuds/tomioneer
Summary: n. a strong hunger or craving for kissingA collection of bits and pieces centered around Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, and various ways they might crash together and fall apart. Includes various prompts and AUs.





	1. The Big Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> A long-divorced couple feigns years of wedded bliss to please a special guest at their son’s nuptials: his birth mother. 728 words.
> 
> (He touches Tim’s hand, and it’s enough. They share a look that means a hundred different things before Tim steps over and leans into Jason’s side, arm wrapping around his waist. And it’s--
> 
> It’s--
> 
> God, it’s nice. He has missed the way Tim fits under his arm so perfectly, head resting on his shoulder, arm bent behind his back and hand resting possessively on his hip. It’s--and he’s--
> 
> He’s never really stopped loving Tim at all. It’s humbling and infuriating to realize this now.)

 

Tim pulls back sharply, eyes wide as he knocks aside the hand cupping his cheek. “What you _doing_ , Jason?” he asks, voice sharp. Almost loud enough to be a shout, and from Tim that’s a damn bellow. Especially in public. Taking another few steps back, he stares hard, searching Jason’s face. “What are you--what do you think you’re going to accomplish here?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. No sound and no air, because he _clearly_ hasn’t changed at all, hasn’t grown up, is always misreading Tim’s signals and _this is what killed them_ , _it was Jason's fault_ \--

Tim’s whole face softens, shoulders rounding a little. He lifts his hands, palms up, and steps back in, catching Jason’s hands. “Jason. It’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...”

“I love you,” he whispers, staring at their hands. Pale and tan, scarred and smooth. Watches Tim’s hands spasm around his fingers and tension slide up his arms. Looking into his eye, Jason says it again. Clearly, because crappy communication kills. “I still love you.”

It’s like being sent back in time, back to his first confession. They’d been together at one of Bruce’s parties, standing off to the side like the wallflowers they wished they could have been, and he’d murmured the words against the rim of his champagne flute. Now, just like then, Tim’s eyes widen and his red lips part in shock. A second later color rushes to his face, pink and pretty.

Just like then, he says, “Jason, I--” and stops. Sighs. But where he used to smile is a frown, brows furrowing as his eyes again search Jason’s face. For what? “We broke up years ago. For some very good reasons.”

It’s true. He says as much.

“But I’m not convinced we did the right thing, giving up on each other. Or rather, you gave up on me. I...” Tim trails off, squeezes Jason’s hands and averts his gaze. Looking out the window, Jason thinks, but when he follows Tim’s line of sight he can tell he’s focused more on their reflections. “I never stopped believing in you. But I don’t know if I love you, and after the divorce... I’m not sure I can trust those words.”

That... hurts. Badly. “Why not?” If Tim believes in him this shouldn’t be so hard...

“Because it’s what I’ve wanted since the week after we signed the papers,” Tim confesses. His voice is the same sort of steady as it was through every meeting with the lawyer, every encounter they’ve had since at parties and the rare holidays Jason bothered to show up for. “I... needed space. I acknowledge that I needed to grow, and be on my own, and live my life without depending on anyone. I just wish it hadn’t come at the expense of you. Or... us. Specifically.”

He looks back at Jason, and his face is so... it’s doing one of those weird multi-expression things Jason used to tease him about. He can’t help but lift a hand and trace the frown line on his cheek.

God they’ve gotten old. He’s only fifty-five, but he might as well be pushing ninety.

He keeps the touch light, gentle. Tim leans into it, lashes fluttering down over his eyes. “I really care about you,” Tim whispers. “I want you back, but--how much of that is me being lonely, or the influence of this ruse? What percent of what I’m feeling right now is real, and what’s just being caught in the moment?”

“I don’t know,” Jason murmurs. “I don’t know how to help you find out, and--” Butting into Tim’s indecision, taking over his life because Jason thought he _knew better_. That was a huge part of why they split. Hand dropping to Tim’s shoulder, he rubs gently with his thumb and says, “Honestly, I think it’s something you need to be able to answer on your own. I won’t settle for less than totally sure.”

“I understand,” Tim says at once. Open his eyes and tips his head, looking up at him. “I really have missed you, though. And... it’s nice. Touching you again. At the very least, none of that is fake for me. You still light me up like a damn firecracker.”

Jason smiles, and leans in to kiss Tim’s head. “Come on,” he says. “We should get back to the party.”

 


	2. Detention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim attends the school Bruce sends Jason to. He's known to be popular but quiet, and gets detention for being late to school a few too many times (what with sleeping in late due to his nightly pursuit of Robin photos). Jason gets it for arguing with a teacher over the meaning of a Maya Angelou poem. 1472 words.

Tim set his elbows on the desk and shoved both hands into his hair, pulling his head down out of sight between his arms. “I’m trying to flirt with you, okay?” he admitted in a rush. “And I know I’m no good at it but I don’t think I’d ever get another chance to even talk to you alone so I had to at least  _ try _ even though I failed  _ epically _ .”

Jason opened his mouth. Shut it and ran the kid’s words through his head again. Given the new context, Drake’s awkward attempts at conversation began to make a lot more sense. In fact, they started to seem kind of... sweet. Moving a little closer, Jason slipped into the desk next to Drake’s. Crossed his arms on the pale table and said carefully, “I wouldn’t call it... an  _ epic _ fail, exactly.”

Lowering his forehead all the way to the tabletop Drake muttered, “Just a totally abysmal one.”

“You were a little vague,” he allowed. “Wasn’t really sure what you were getting at.”

He thought he heard, “Not you, that’s for sure,” but wrote it off. No way was honor-student Tim Drake forward enough to say something like that.

“So you’re, uh, gay, huh?” he asked. “Why aren’t you in GSA?”

“No, I’m demi.” A heavy sigh. Jason made a note to look that one up--he knew he’d heard of it, but couldn’t remember which category it fell under. “And I don’t have time for other club activities. Between photography and debate pretty much all my spare time is eaten up.”

Jason took the plunge. “So it’ll be hard to find time for our date, huh?”

Predictably, Drake went super still. Barely even breathed. “Our what?” he asked at length.

“Our date.” Propping his chin on one fist, he drummed his the fingers of his other hand on the desk. “You were working up to asking me out, right? I mean, if for whatever reason I’ve got your attention... yeah, no, sure as hell not passing that chance up.”

Lifting his head slowly, Drake turned to look at him. “I don’t... I don’t understand.”

“You don’t know?” Jason asked, surprised. Then he laughed. “I guess you wouldn’t if you’re so busy. You’re kind of... incredibly popular, kid. You’re, like, a perfect trifecta. Rich and cute and smart. A little standoffish, maybe, but I’m starting to think you’re just secretly the most socially awkward kid in the school?” Glancing at Drake, he waited for a response. Got a quick, uncomfortable little nod. “Right. So that aside, dude... you’re sort of a major catch. Don’t know how a punk like me got your attention, but I ain’t complaining.”

Drake’s reaction was startling. Spine snapping straight, expression the very picture of outrage, he cried, “You’re not a punk! Who the--How dare--The  _ nerve _ of some people, they don’t even  _ know _ you!”

Raising both hands to ward him off, Jason chuckled. “I call myself that all the time, dude. Chill out.”

He wilted immediately, shrinking back down from vocal debate leader to small, unassuming nerd. “Oh.” A pause while Jason mulled over the kid’s immediate defense of him before Drake muttered, “You shouldn’t though.”

“Kid, I spent the last two years before Wayne adopted me on the streets. I wasn’t even in the system, no orphanage, no foster parents. Nothin’. And I can clean up my language, I can dress nice, I can rub shoulders with the high-borns, but that’s never going to change what I am.” Crossing his arms, Jason shot Drake a smirk.  “I’m a  _ punk _ , and I  _ own _ that.”

Pinching his nose, Drake shook his head. Muttered again. “You’re so much more than that.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason challenged. “What am I, then?”

Drake’s mouth opened, an answer obviously on the tip of his tongue. But an odd expression passed over his face, some private realization, and he shut his mouth and thought for a moment before offering, “You’re  _ nice _ . And smart. You--you know a ton of trivia, and you’re funny, too. Well-read... passionate about civil rights. Optimistic and--” He faltered, blushing, but forged onward. “And really, really handsome.”

“You’re adorable,” Jason responded swiftly. “That’s all really sweet, but... Tim,” he tried. Liked the way the name felt on his lips when directed toward the kid. “You don’t even know me. We’ve basically never spoken before. So how the hell do you even know any of that?”

Drake-- _ Tim _ shrugged. “List six things  _ you _ know about me,” he challenged.

Jason thought, once again drumming his fingers on the desk. Giving the challenge serious consideration, because it was obvious Tim was driving at something here. There were so many things he could rattle off--stuff Jason had noticed since coming in, just sharing the same room for an hour. Watching him. Studying his clothes, bag, ticks.

But he had to stick with safe things. Things everyone knew. “You won the debate regionals for us last year. You read really quickly--” Which might not have been common knowledge, but Jason volunteered in the library during free period last semester, and every few days Tim returned a book, checked out a new one. He routinely took out textbooks for classes he didn’t even have--every weekend in fact, returning it the next Monday. “You’re smart as hell. Real quiet until someone pisses you off. You either hate sports or suck at them, no one seems to know for sure. And you stay up way too late way too regularly to be healthy.”

God, he was a hypocrite. And a liar.

Tim lifted a brow. “I do?”

Waving a hand at Tim, at his face and hands, he explained. “You have some pretty serious bruising under your eyes there, kiddo. And the longer we’ve been here, the more unsteady your hands have gotten. You’re fuckin’ exhausted.”

“Maybe it’s just nerves,” Tim countered, lifting his chin.

Jason shook his head. “Maybe. But you’re here for being late to school and I’ve never seen anyone pick you up or drop you off more than a few times in a row. Your backpack and binder are too cheap for someone who wears designer shoes and coats every day, so you’re obviously being provided for, but not by someone around often enough to know when you need new supplies; you have to shop for your own school things. And honestly, you go through way too many books a week to have anyone at home to talk to.” Once more setting his chin on his palm, he turned as far as he could, crossed one leg over the other so his knee jutted off the seat. The bar holding up the back of the desk cut into his shin, but the discomfort was negligible. “Your parents don’t even live with you, do they? So there’s probably nobody to enforce or even set a curfew for you.”

He felt a little triumphant upon finishing his list, but realized all too late that he’d gone ahead and revealed his carefully honed deductive skills anyway. Closing his lips tight, Jason waited, watching Tim warily for a variety of reasons. Not only was it odd to notice so many things, to draw such conclusions--he’d also been way too blunt about Tim’s obviously absent parents.

Instead of getting creeped or offended, Tim gave an empty smile. Jason was surprised by the strength of his dislike for the expression, the way it hollowed out Tim’s blue eyes. Sweeping a hand through his hair, Tim glanced away, then back to Jason. Lifting a brow he asked, “Are you sure you haven’t just noticed the lights on in my house? We are neighbors.”

He blinked. “We are?”

The hollow smile filled pretty quickly with amused superiority. “We are.”

The only house within sight of the Manor... Jason sifted through his memory. Drake Mansion sat to the right, a ways away but up on a slight hill. After first moving to the Manor and becoming Robin, Jason had expressed his concern over having neighbors who could see the house and yards, but Bruce had assured him it was no concern;  _ The Drakes are archeologists who spend most of their time overseas, _ he’d said and Alfred added, _ Their son attends a boarding school just outside of the city. _

“Oh shit,” Jason said, eyes wide. “I thought you went to boarding school?”

“Like two years ago, yeah,” Tim said with a shrug. “I don’t know whether to be flattered you knew that or offended you didn’t realize we live next to each other.”

“Sorry,” Jason said drily. “I just don’t make a habit of looking into my neighbor’s windows.”

“Oh, well, you should work on that,” Tim returned, every bit as sarcastic. It was... kind of impressive, Jason had to admit. Also kind of attractive. If the kid could banter, that would make everything so much easier between them.


	3. Waitin' For The Bus In The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s raining and u forgot your umbrella so come over and stand under mine while we wait for the bus" meet cute au 537 words.

“Oh, for--” the stranger began, and then reached over. A large hand hooked around Tim’s elbow; in the next second he was pulled so far off balance it was miracle he didn’t just fall.

Or. Well. Would be a miracle, if not for the fact that it was very obviously due to the strong arm around his shoulders, keeping him pinned to the stranger’s side.

He could literally feel his face start to burn. Ears, too. Wetting his lips, Tim started, “Um--” and then choked. Hot Umbrella Man’s thumb had started to stroke up and down over his shoulder.

“Damn you’re tiny,” he muttered. “I’m surprised you haven’t blown away yet. You’re, what, one-thirty soaking wet?”

“I don’t see how it’s relevant seeing as you seem determined to keep me from getting so much as sprinkled on,” Tim bit off, impatient. 

A startled laugh came out of Hot Umbrella Man; his whole body shook with it. “Got a point there, bro. You sure have a short fuse, huh?”

Suddenly exhausted at the reminder of his day, Tim slumped. Lifted his free hand to rub his eyes under his glasses, only to remember they had broken earlier. “Not normally, no.”

Making a sympathetic sound, Hot Umbrella Man bumped his hip against Tim’s. Friendly, easy-going. “Long day?”

“ _ Yes. _ ”

“Well, it’s almost over,” the man pointed out. “Silver lining, right?”

“No,” Tim groused, not even noticing when he began leaning on the other man. “My brother is waiting at my apartment and we’re going to end up arguing about my life choices.”

“Which ones?” Hot Umbrella Man prompted. “I mean, they look pretty solid from here. You’re in a nice suit with a briefcase and a wicked expensive watch. Could probably use more sleep though, you’ve got bruises.” His hand lifted from Tim’s shoulder to gesture vaguely at his own face over Tim’s head. Then it settled back, warm even through his coat. 

“I run a Fortune 500 company,” Tim groused. “But live in a two bedroom apartment with minimal security, evidenced by the fact that my brother keeps  _ breaking into my home _ when he wants to lecture me.”

“Might want to look into moving, then,” the man suggested lightly. “My complex has great security, I would know.”

Rolling his head on Hot Umbrella’s shoulder to see his expression, Tim asked, “Why would you know?”

Sparing Tim a sharp smile he said, “I own the security company they use.”

Humming thoughtfully, Tim considered before asking, “Got a card?

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll dig a couple out for you on the bus. Which is fucking late, by the by.”

“Isn’t that always the way?” Tim muttered, rolling his eyes. Hot Umbrella laughed again. “Such a sucky fucking day,” Tim sighed. Rubbed his eyes again and only tensed a little when Hot Umbrella’s hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck and began to massage the tension out.

“End of the week though.”

“Maybe for people with  _ normal _ hours,” Tim groused.

“I hear ya,” responded Hot Umbrella. “I work seven day weeks when I’m on fucking  _ vacation _ . It’s like--come on guys, I hired you because you’re grown-ups, can you please act like you know how to manage yourselves?”

“ _ Exactly _ .”


	4. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief continuation of the same school/Detention ficlet. 637 words

Tim’s hand tightened on his arm, pulling Jason around. Breathless, frustrated, teeth bared in the beginnings of a silent snarl, Jason stared at Tim, his determined expression, his bright eyes. It was startling enough to calm Jason, too. He started to breathe again, and the chaos of the rushing crowd around them seemed to fade. Harley’s raucous laugh rose above the shouts and crashes, the immense thunder of a thousand feet.

Of the hundreds of people in the square, Tim alone was acting like he was _used_ to supervillain attacks.

Fingers digging into Jason’s arm, Tim shook him. “I’m _fine_ ,” he said forcefully. “ _Go_.”

“What?”

Tim released him, hand rising to frame his face. Holding him in place so as not to break eye contact. Voice hard, biting off the words, he said, “I know who you are. _Go stop her._ ”

Instinct had him denying immediately, “I don’t know what you--”

Tim shook his head, clapped a hand over Jason’s mouth. “Robin,” he said, and his mouth--his lips and tongue and teeth--seemed to caress the name. Turned it into an intimate thing. “You’re Robin. And you have to stop her before she hurts anyone. With Joker in Arkham you might be able to diffuse the situation before it escalates, maybe even convince her to turn herself in.”

“How the _hell_ ,” he started, but Tim shook his head. Pushed on his shoulders.

“Later, okay? I’ll answer everything _later_. Go save the day.”

“I--” Jason was torn. He _couldn’t_ let Tim out of his sight after finding out Jason’s identity ( _how, though?_ something in the back of his brain demanded, _how the fuck--_ ) in case he revealed it to someone or slipped away. On the other hand, he also couldn’t let Harley continue her tree-and-light-smashing rampage. “Goddamnit, kid, you’re killing me,” he finally groaned, reaching for the strap of his bag. Pushing it off his shoulder and setting a foot on his bag so it wouldn’t get kicked away by the buffeting crowd, Jason scowled at his date and started undoing his coat. “Here, take this--”

Peeling it off, he swung it around Tim’s narrow shoulders. It was almost comically large on the kid, dragging his shoulders down with the weight of it. Eyes flashing over Tim’s face, his set jaw and glinting eyes, Jason gave in to a whim and used the lapels of his coat to drag Tim in close enough to bump noses. Ducking his head, Jason planted a big ol’ kiss right on the kid’s mouth.

His lips were thin and chapped, but Jason knew that already. But, god, they way they softened and parted open in surprise made him want to stay. To keep kissing, to press back in again and again until Jason could get his tongue in that small mouth, lick along the teeth he could feel the edges of through Tim’s lips, he was pressing so hard. Maybe too hard, too urgent.

Maybe it was a sucky first kiss, but if this was his only chance Jason was damn well going to take it.

“Stay clear,” he ordered when he pulled back, putting a hand on Tim’s cheek. The look of shock on his face was picture-perfect and Jason loved it. “I’ll find you later.” The tracker in his coat would make sure of it.

Nodding quickly, looking a little dazed, Tim closed his hands around the edges of Jason’s coat and drew it tight around him. “Okay,” he said, licking his mouth. His eyes were fixed on Jason’s lips. “Later. Bye.”

“Bye,” Jason returned, ducking down to grab his pack and then slipping into the crowd. He had to find somewhere to change into his armor. Had to be quick about it too; he’d sacrificed precious seconds to steal that kiss.

Touching his lips unconsciously, Jason grinned.

_Totally worth it._


	5. in the bar where everyone knows your name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'i'm pretending to be ur bff bc u looked VERY uncomfortable with that person at the bar hitting on u' non-hero AU. 429 words.

“Oh,  _ there _ you are! God, I couldn’t find you in this damn  _ crowd _ ,” Tim grumbled, sliding past a woman he silently dubbed Shark Smile With An Updo and shoulder-checking the man she had cornered. “Am I seriously just the shortest person over twenty-five in the city or something?”

The man laughed, warm like this was a conversation they’d had a few times. “No, man, just in the bar. When’d you get here? You could have just texted me, I’d have waved or something.”

Rolling his eyes, Tim settled in against the bar between them, sparing the Shark Lady a brief, distracted glance and a ‘Hey’ before turning and smacking the bar with his palm. Cass and Cassie both glanced over, but Connor stepped up before either of them, Tim’s usual already in hand.

After what happened with Tim’s dad, he didn’t drink. His friends were all nice enough to pretend his ‘usual’ was a screwdriver, but it was straight-up orange juice.

“Hey, Tim,” Connor greeted easily as he slid the glass across the bar, “Glad you made it over in one piece. Thought you were gonna get trampled.” He laughed and extended a fist to the stranger. They bumped it like old friends and both laughed louder.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m tiny, I get it.”

“Oh, Timmy,” the stranger sighed, slinging an arm over his shoulders.  _ Fuck _ he was big. And warm. And could probably bench press Tim’s Ducatti. His other hand landed on the bar; he had a big ring on the middle finger bearing the initial  _ JT _ . Assuming he wasn’t just a mad Justin Timberlake fan, they were probably his own. “Maybe one of these days you’ll learn to drink your milk like a big boy and finally get that growth spurt you’ve been waiting for.”

“Shut your face, Jay,” he answered swiftly and took a long drink. Setting the glass down hard, he put on a glower, directed it at the man beside him. “Or I’ll break it again.”

Reaching up,  _ JT _ thumbs the side of his nose, right where it goes a little crooked. Obviously broken at least once before. “Hey, I  _ let _ you get that punch in.”

“Asshole.”

“Dickwad.”

Behind him, Shark Lady shifted. Cleared her throat. Tim would have felt bad for her if not for the way JT had so immediately seized upon an excuse not to talk to her.

Leaning forward across the bar, providing an additional barrier between Tim and Shark Lady,  Connor smiled at them both. “Just let me know when you want a refill, it’s on the house tonight.”

 


	6. Parenting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kids go the same school AU, feat. Stephanie Brown, Colin Wilkes, and Rory the Bear. 1912 words.
> 
> Also known as, Jason Todd is not a great parent, but he isn't completely hopeless either, OR Tim is enamored of Jason in every universe.

“Fuck this noise,” the stranger grumbles, and hefts the boy up under one arm. Voice rough, tense, he bites out, “You are going to stay up here until you get into through your head how to behave around other kids. Another word out of you, mister, and you go higher.”

Considering the sheer size of him, Tim understands why the boy takes this threat seriously enough to screw his mouth shut and cross his arms, pouting.

“Jason Wilkes,” the man introduces, holding out his hand.

Tim looks up from where he’s bent over, holding his daughter to his chest. Eyes the extended hand and the redhaired boy scowling at his child like there’s no tomorrow, then follows the arm up with his eyes to the shoulder, neck, face of Jason Wilkes. Reaches out once he knows Steph is secured and accepts. “Tim Drake. This is Stephanie. I assume your boy is Colin?”

“You’ve heard of him?” There’s a definite strain of pleasure in that voice, even as he hitches his son higher against his hip like a sack of flour.

“To say the least,” Tim bites out, glancing down at his daughter, her scraped knuckles, and then eyeing the bruise flowering on the boy’s forehead. “I’m amazed this is the first time we’ve met, to be honest. Your boy has something of a reputation in our house."

Jason laughs, but rubs the back of his neck. "I could say the same about your girl. Firecracker, aren't you?" He directs his question to Stephanie, who crosses her arms and turns her nose up.

"I don't talk to strangers."

"Smart girl," Jason commends, and looks back to Tim. "So, given the trend of mutual animosity I'm seeing here, we should probably settle this."

"You gonna fight 'im, Pop?" Colin asks, still tucked under Jason's massive arm.

"Jesus, kid," he mutters, and ruffles his hair. "That's not how it works in the grown-up world and you know it."

"But--"

Steph twistws in Tim's arms to bat her lashes at him. "Please, Daddy? I bet you could take 'im!"

Shooting his daughter an incredulous look, Tim mutely shakes his head.

Jason nods at him. "See? A solid example of common sense. Learn it, Colin. _Use it_." 

“Mr. Wilkes, I might have an idea that works out better for us than fisticuffs,” Tim says, quirking a brow when the man looks his way again.

“Let them work it out for themselves?” the other returns, a smile growing on his face. “Sit back, kick up our feet, eat popcorn? Life lessons for everybody?”

"Something like that." Tim smiles and gestures at the coffee shop across the street. "Starbucks?"

"Hell yeah."

* * *

 

It... doesn't go as well as he'd hoped. After grabbing the coffees, Tim and Jason bring the sullen children back to the park and settle on each end of a bench, setting the kids to the task of sorting out their issues in the grassy patch in front of them. Eventually, predictably, it devolves into a shouting match of baseless accusations. While Tim and Jason both listen closely, ready to intervene should the need arise, they manage to get in a decent chat and avoid the matter coming to blows. Until, of course, Stephanie and Colin both turn to appeal to their parent at the same time.

“He said braids are for sissies!”

“She makes fun of Rory!” The boy’s voice breaks on the last word. "All the  _time_!"

Immediately Jason’s feet thud to the ground. All humor is wiped from his face and one of his arms is outstretched; Colin rushes into the offered embrace, taking shelter in his father’s hulking form. Face buried in the folds of his coat, Colin shakes with something between anger and despair.

“Well,” Jason starts gruffly, “Why didn’t you lead with that? Dammit, kid, I thought you were just being a brat again.” The little red head shakes back and forth, and real concern gnaws at Tim’s stomach. Standing, he beckons for Stephanie to make her own way over, watching warily as Jason lifts his son onto his thigh and speaks to him very quietly. “Now, you and I both know Rory can look out for himself. He doesn't let that stuff bother him, Coles, and you shouldn’t either.”

“But--but she’s said he’s _dumb_.”

“He’s not dumb,” Jason says, sounding shocked. It’s a tone familiar to Tim, familiar enough that the man’s next words don’t startle him at all. After all, he had to be talking about something Pretend to take on that particular cajoling, almost narrative tone. “You and I both know Rory is the smartest bear in the city.”

“And the toughest,” Colin mutters.

“Naw, you’re toughest guy around,” Jason vows, something in his words, his tone, sending Tim’s head reeling as he manages to put two and two together to--

“Oh my god, you’re Jason Todd.” It takes some seriously concentrated effort to stop there before he can embarrass himself. Then he starts again anyway because. Because this is _Jason Todd_ , he just had coffee with _Jason Todd_ , his daughter picks fights with _Jason Todd’s_ child and-- “Jesus, I teach seminars based on your books. You look-- _very different_. Than your pictures.” It comes out strangled, and TIm's face heats up. Jason shoots a quick glance at him, obviously confused, and Tim turns away quickly. There are more important matters at hand than his nearly asking out  _Jason freaking Todd_ without realizing it.

Dropping into a crouch, he turns to Stephanie, holds her shoulder and asks very seriously, “ _Exactly_ who is Rory, Steph?”

“His _doll_ ,” she says, sneers. “He brings a _teddy bear_ to school!” If he were a man of faith, Tim would pray for patience. Because this is Jason Todd and Jason Todd’s son and Jason Todd’s son’s teddy bear, he’s _mentioned_ that bear in a few of his books, and those books are Tim’s _favorites_ . Jason Todd’s writing is Tim’s _passion_ , his life’s work is based on them, but more than that--

The bear--

It’s the only thing his son has left over from his late mother. The only thing he had with him at the orphanage. And his daughter, _Tim’s Stephanie_ , was mocking that bear. “Apologize,” he commands, voice iron, steel-hard. “Right now, apologize. No buts, no ifs, and no movie this weekend.”

“But--” she starts and he narrows his eyes.

Cupping her face, he lifts her gaze to his. “You cannot insult things that are important to people. You are not allowed to insult people, period, and you know this. It’s especially silly to do when you don’t know what you’re talking about. If you don’t know anything, don’t say anything, remember? Listen until you learn, or ask questions. Don’t just think you know things.”

“It’s a _stuffed animal_!” she cries.

“And if he talked badly about that _project_ you have going with Cassandra?” Tim asks pointedly. Seeing as the project in question is the beginning stages of building her own go-kart.

Stephanie pales. Her voice drops to a tiny, tiny whisper. “You know about that?”

Smoothing her bangs to the side, he shrugs. “I’m your father. I know everything. Like that fact that you need to go to Colin right now and apologize very, very nicely, because you did something mean to him.”

“Boys aren’t supposed to tattle,” she mutters. Withdrawing his hands. Tim sits back on his heels and _looks_ at her. She throws her hands into the air. “I know, I know! Don’t stereotype, everyone is different, gender isn’t definitive, boys can like girl things and girls can like girls and everybody can wear everybody’s clothes and marketing is stupid brainwashing and _everything_.”

Behind him, _Jason_ fucking _Todd_ makes an aborted sound of surprise and amusement. He admits her rant is probably pretty startling to anyone who doesn’t know him or his work. The values he’s taught her are a little... liberal, and hearing a nine-year-old regurgitate them would be shocking to anyone. Tim lifts a brow at Steph and she grimaces.

“Fine.” Turning away, she marches over to Colin, who has slid down from his father's lap and is standing between his feet. “I’m _sorry_ I said something that hurt you. I should have known better than to make assumptions instead of wait until I have all the information to draw my conclusions. I was _wrong_ , and if you give me the chance I would like to hear the real story about your bear instead of the one Ozzie made up.”

Ozzie? Tim thinks for a moment, then realizes with a stifled groan: Oswald _Cobblepot_. He’s a demanding brat, the kind of kid who wants all the attention at school he probably doesn’t get at home. It’s a sad story, of course, but hardly uncommon. That he’s the one who filled Steph’s head with lies about Colin’s Rory bear isn’t at all surprising.

Colin _stares_ at her. Then, slowly, extends a hand. “Apology accepted.” They shake hands gravely.

“Well,” Jason Todd says after a minute. He’s got both hands on Colin’s thin shoulders and is rubbing gently, a steady sort of reassurance. Stephanie draws back and leans against Tim’s shoulder, shuffling her feet the way she always does when she’s embarrassed. “That could have gone a lot worse.”

Tim snorts and switches knees. “You don’t have to tell me that.” Standing, he puts a hand on Stephanie’s nape and shakes her gently side to side. “Hey. Cheer up. You still get to see Cass this weekend, I’m just going to tell her you’re not allowed to watch movies.”

“Oh,” Steph mumbles. “That’s not so bad, I guess.”

“Thank you,” Jason insists,  and his eyes are warm. “I’m grateful you took this so seriously.”

“It’s a serious offense,” Tim murmurs, dropping his gaze. Stephanie’s eyes flicker up to him, and Tim drums up a smile. “Why don’t you a Colin go sit together and talk?  _ Nicely _ ?” he points across the meandering path through the park at another bench. Stephanie hesistate, then nods and invites Colin to go with her. He’s awkward about it himself, looking back at his dad until Jason pushes lightly on his shoulders.

“Go on,” Jason says with a nod. “I’ll be right here, you know that.”

“Okay,” Colin mumbles, and leads the way. Steph takes  asecond to hug Tim before following, and then it’s just Tim and Jason and the unavoidable  _ awkwardness _ of having been speaking to  _ Jason Todd _ in person without know it.

“So,” he says after a while, sitting back on the bench and setting his foot on the other knee. His arms stretch out across the metal back, and Jason smirks. “You didn’t  _ recognize me _ ? We’ve been corresponding off and of for years, dude.”

“A few emails,” Tim mutters, and runs a hand through his hair. Then he adjusts his jacket, fortifies, and resumes his seat at Jason’s side. “And you look...” He gestures hopelessly at Jason, meaning the leather jacket, the torn and well-worn jeans, the knitted woven scarf. “ _ Not _ like your dust jackets say you do.”

Which is to say, a black and white photograph of a young, grinning man in a three-piece suit, carefully combed hair perfectly in place.

“Yeah,” Jason laughs, “Odd how ten years and a  _ kid _ will change a person.”

“Your eyes are  _ so blue _ ,” Tim complains without thought, then snaps his mouth shut and bites his lip.

“And you blush red,” Jason returns, smirking. Stretching out his leg, he nudges Tim’s foot with his boot. “It’s cute.”

 

 


	7. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim gets hit by a truth serum, and Jason takes advantage to investigate why Tim is so weird around him. 1221 words.
> 
> (Jason looks down on him angrily, but is startled by the look on his face. Brows drawn together, eyes wide and focused, Tim says, “I don’t want you to go.”
> 
> “Why not?”
> 
> “Because you’re family!” he cries. “Because you always have been, you have every right to be here! Because it doesn’t matter what mask you’re wearing, you’re Robin and you don’t ever have to leave! I want you to work with us--”)

“It’s a truth serum,” Bruce reads. “Fairly powerful, but without the agents that would make him vulnerable to compulsion. The effects should fade in a few days’ time, but until then...” Looking up, Bruce’s gaze lands on his youngest son. “Tim can’t lie.”

“But,” the boy protests, shaking his head and backing away. He draws his arms around himself and hunches his shoulder. “But I lie all the time!” Tim’s eyes go comically wide mouth dropping open in shock at the admission. “I--I should go,” he says quickly. Decisively, and he turns to jog across the cave to his locker. “I should go. I’ll be going. I’ll be back in approximately a week. Um. Please don’t send Superboy after me, he’ll take shameless advantage of this.”

* * *

“But you never understood! You refused to hear him, Jay, refused to accept the fact that just maybe it  _ shouldn’t _ be Bruce who did it! Maybe someone else was better suited for the job. And they didn’t step up, and I’m sorry for that, I am. But it was never  _ Bruce’s _ job to kill Joker for you. If anyone, it should have been the State--but they didn’t  _ know _ Joker murdered you!”

“Because Robin can’t die,” Jason growls. 

He nods. “Robin can’t die, he just--changes. And Jason, if I thought for one minute I could get away with it, that Bruce would never know and it wouldn’t destroy what I’ve worked so hard for-- _ I _ would do it. I would.”

Tim goes really, really still, because that... wasn’t supposed to ever come up between them. It was enough for Conner to know--for one person to be aware he wasn’t fully opposed to murder in...  _ certain _ extreme cases. But for Jason to know his death was one of them? Not ever part of Tim’s plan. And he’s--God, Jay is so startled by the revelation.

“Would you?” he asks, stepping closer. Backing Tim against his couch. 

Hands curling around the top, he nods quickly and wets his lips. “In a heartbeat. I was a kid then, I couldn’t--but now, if I had the chance. I wouldn’t spit on him if he were on fire.”

“Are you--” he starts, stops. Stares at Tim askance like he doesn’t quite believe he’s real, narrowed eyes studying him from inches away. “Are you still stuck telling the truth?”

The easiest answer so far. ”Unfortunately,  _ yes _ .”

“And you would kill the Joker for me.”

“If the right conditions are met.”

Jason stalls, leaning back a little. “You’ve already thought about this,” he breathes. “That’s not supposition, you have a  _ plan _ .”

Tim wet his lips and focused his eyes on the wool of J ason’s coat collar. 

“ _ God _ ,” Jason bites out and raises both hands to Tim. Reaching out to grab him--his shoulders? Shirtfront? The gesture is aborted halfway, hands curling into large fists. “ _ Shit _ ,” he says, wrapping one hand around the base of Tim’s throat, palm  _ pressing _ onto his clavicle. Tipping Tim back somewhat, so his face is turned up to see Jason.

Jason, who leans in and kisses him. Soft like a breath, one quick, careful press of his lips before he pulls away. Tim reels, his breath stops, his eyes stuck open in shock. Then he gasps, moves forward and grabs two fistfuls of Jason’s hair, dragging him back down for another kiss. His lips buzz when Jason hums, low and pleased. A slightly broken sound. 

Their lips part with a wet sound, noses bumping when Tim presses his face to Jason’s. He’s got his eyes closed still, afraid to see rejection or regret--expecting judgment or perhaps mockery. “Jason,” he whispers, “You--you should leave. You should go.”

Jason flinches; his head jerks out of Tim’s hands and strands of hair pull free, caught around his fingers. Tim feels it with his whole body and his eyes fly open in shock. That shouldn’t--his words should never be able to make Jason react like that. Jason is staring at him, eyes tight. Lips pale, they’re pressed so tight together. His face is white.

He looks so  _ jaded _ .

Shaking off the strands of hair, Tim lifts one hand and strokes his knuckles down the side of Jason’s face. He doesn’t know what look is on his face, what makes Jason’s eyes narrow with something like realization.

“I don’t mean it like that,” Tim whispers. “I just--don’t want to do something you’ll regret. Just because I’m--” He stops, closes his eyes and  _ breathes _ . “I would kill for you, Jason. I would burn the world if you asked. That's why I can’t ever be your Robin.  _ That’s _ why I’m afraid of you.”

“Look at me, Tim,” he orders, voice low. His hand lifts from Tim’s neck to cup his face between both palms. His fingers fit around Tim’s ears; his hands are so big Tim feels dwarfed. He opens his eyes slowly and is greeted with the sight of Jason having ducked his head in close. “I’m not going to ask you to do that. I  _ swear _ . And I can assure you, Timbo, the only thing I’d  _ regret _ about tonight is walking out that door and missing what happens next.”

“What--what happens next?” he asks, quiet. 

Leaning in, Jason presses his lips to Tim’s forehead. “That’s up to you.”

It’s like his brain isn’t even working anymore, honestly. Tim flounders for words, for a  _ decision _ , stammering and making aborted, indecisive noises for several seconds until Jason slides a hand to the back of Tim’s neck and hides a grin in his cheek.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers. “It’s a damn miracle I’ve kept my distance this long.”

“I wouldn’t really call that  _ distance _ ,” Tim says at once, thinking of all the times Jason has fought him, pinned him, and crowded him in attempts at intimidation. Even when they met that very first time, Jason held Tim close. 

Jason chuckles. “No, I guess not.”

“So you,” Tim starts to say, and then stops. He’s not going to ask if Jason likes him; he’s going to trust the man wouldn’t be doing any of this if he  _ didn’t _ . Jason generally prefers to make himself heard through actions anyway. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Yes.” As he draws back, Jason moves his hand to hold Tim’s chin gently. His eyes, when they study Tim’s face, are  _ warm _ . He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, smiling. “Well goddamn. You really like me, don’t you?”

He loves him, actually.

“I love you, actually.”

Jason’s hand on his neck tightens. He hauls Tim in and wraps an arm around his waist, then dips him slightly as he kisses him. It’s hard this time, hungry. Jason’s mouth is open and he tastes good enough Tim’s mouth waters a little--peppermint and ginger. Holiday tastes flood his senses when Tim slips his tongue into Jason’s mouth, one hand on Jason’s face to hold him close, encourage him.

He doesn’t have to say it back. Not yet, anyway, and Tim wants him to know that. There’s nothing Jason can do at this point to stop Tim from loving him--all of him and without question. The kiss is long, slow, and consuming. When Jason draws back his lips are red, and his hands have a slight tremor when he touches Tim’s waist to ensure he can stand--a valid concern for the first several seconds.


End file.
